The Staff Meeting
by RhondaStar
Summary: My second ADMM 1-shot of the day! A short, silly piece as they have a conversation before the staff meting begins and reflect on a few things.


_**My second ADMM 1-shot of the day! A short, silly piece as they have a conversation before the staff meting begins and reflect on a few things.**_

_**As always I own nothing and make no profit, other than personal enjoyment, from writing.**_

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><p><strong>Staff Meeting<strong>

Time keeping had never been Dumbledore's strong point. He always aimed to make every staff meeting, and usually did, but often would turn up five, ten minutes into proceedings, squeezing into his chair at the top of the table without McGonagall even missing a beat.

And there was the perfection of it.

Whilst he was occasionally whimsical and off task, she was punctuality personified. By the time he got there she would have already drilled through matters arising from the last meeting and be on to the first item on the agenda.

Today however, he found himself at rather a loose end and so engaged in a task he always enjoyed, walking the castle. The last fifteen minutes of lessons were playing out and he glanced through windows with delight as students displayed their talents. As always his wanderings brought him to Transfiguration, it had been his stomping ground for many years after all and he still missed the actual process of teaching.

McGonagall's class was filing out as he approached the transfiguration corridor, first years, and some of them glanced nervously at him as he passed. Girls giggling behind their hands to each other, he was still smiling over it as he entered the room.

"What's so funny?" Minerva asked, glancing up from her desk where she was stacking books.

"How the young view me, I'm sure some of those girls were shaking."

"I think you forget that you are quite an imposing figure."

His brow furrowed, hands folded in front of him.

"Well, rather, the spectre of Professor Dumbledore is." She added.

He nodded, "And Professor McGonagall meanwhile is as gentle as a pussy cat."

"Now, now." She waved her wand and he watched as the piles of books flew from her desk to the cupboard in the corner. "What are you doing here anyway? Just wandering or did you have something important to ask me?"

"I'm here for the meeting."

She stopped in her actions, staring at him for a second. "You've never been early in thirty years."

He chuckled, "That pleases me on many levels. First, that I still have the ability to do something I've never done before, even at my age. And secondly, most importantly, I can still surprise even you."

She shook her head at him, swishing her wand again and quickly moving chairs and desks ready for the meeting. A second later house elves appeared with refreshments and Albus took his chair at the top of the table, across from hers. It had been decided when they'd first taken up their respective posts, that he didn't wish to sit as the actual head of the table, especially as it was really her who ran the agenda, so they had none, instead sitting adjacent to each other.

He was pouring himself tea as she took her seat, sliding a piece of parchment towards him and scanning it herself.

"Did you sign the consent forms for me? I really need to finish that off tonight." She asked without looking up.

He nodded, sitting back in his chair as the warmth of the tea sank through his body. "You know me Professor, ever prompt."

He noticed the corners of her mouth twitch as she struck an item of the agenda list. Her quill put aside she rubbed the bridge of her nose and groaned.

"Headache?"

"Yes, long, and very testing, day. Look at this," she held the arm of her robe up for him to see. "Singed twice by James Cherry in the space of four minutes, the poor boy has no eyebrows left; one wonders how a simple instruction can become so misconstrued."

He laughed, "Ah, but not everyone is as talented as you were in their first year Minerva."

She allowed him a smile at that and leant back in her chair, visibly relaxing.

"Down to the teacher, of course." He added, pouring her tea and passing it across.

"So by that notion, it's Mr Cherry's teacher that's letting him down."

"I don't think you've ever let anyone down Minerva. Or ever could."

She swallowed her tea, slowly, holding his gaze, before lowly whispering, "Flatterer."

Their postures mirrored each other, both leant back in their chairs, legs stretched out beneath the tables, a half smile on their face and cradling a cup of tea.

"Though I do remember a particular occasion, your third year I believe, when you accidentally gave Beth Ryan hairy hands."

She blushed even at the memory. "You know I couldn't get the curve of the wand right, I slipped and it hit her instead. Serves her right for sitting next to me just to steal my answers."

He laughed, though it wasn't an entirely humorous memory for either of them. She had found friendships difficult, she was extremely clever and talented and as such an easy target. He remembered catching her crying on more than one occasion and she often hid out in his classroom when really she should have been out socialising. The problem was, he never once minded having her there.

She placed her cup down, sliding her finger along the rim of it, "People forget that you taught me." She added gently.

"You were, and still are, my best student."

He was rewarded with a bright smile for that, not something that was readily available from her.

"Oh my head," she sighed rubbing her temples.

He watched as her slender fingers made quick work disposing of the pins that held her tight bun in place. Eyes following as the long strands of hair came loose, free, and threaded through her fingers, over her hands, he remembers doing the same thing on several occasions. As swiftly as it's down about her shoulders she's tying it back again, deftly plaiting it out of the way, it changes her appearance, softens her.

"Remind me, to remind you, to do that again later," he says lowly.

She smirks, "Come on, we both know you'd rather be the one doing it than watching. You've never been a voyeur Albus."

"No, though you do bring out the best in me."

She glances at the door, momentarily, then back to his bright eyes. "Tell me," she whispers, "when did you first know?"

"That I loved you?" He reaches for the plate of ginger newts in the centre of the table, snapping a piece off and munching it slowly, much to her chagrin. It's a conversation they've had many times before but one that still manages to warm both their hearts. "Hmm, love is a strange thing though Professor McGonagall... ever changing, never easy."

"Albus." She pouts, hands folded beneath her chin, elbows on the table.

"I loved you, quite innocently, probably your second year here at Hogwarts, platonically you understand. Such a sweet, lost, little soul. You argued with me even back then."

"You can't always be right."

He raised an eyebrow at that, in actual fact he loved that she challenged him.

"When you were sixteen and dating that awful boy..."

"... He was Quidditch champion for three years running I'll have you know."

"Well that's when the first pangs of jealousy kicked in."

Her face softened as she watched him, his darkened remembering the time. "And that was difficult, the internal battle between my head and my heart."

"And yet you waited until I was twenty-one to tell me."

"I waited until I was absolutely sure those feelings were for life and not just lust." He finished his biscuit. "And what about you, Minerva, when did you know?"

"I fell absolutely, irrevocably in love with you when I was ten years old and read about you in the Hogwarts guide, I was convinced even then I would marry you and we'd live happily ever after."

"Well then, you see, you _are_ always right."

She smiled again, a sudden need to kiss him swimming through her. Her back straightened though when she heard voices approaching.

"Have dinner with me tonight?" He asked.

"Same time, same place." She said to her paperwork and he smiled his acknowledgement. She was ever punctual.


End file.
